


Pressing Down on You

by get_in_angel



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Stress, crowley really is nice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 18:43:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/get_in_angel/pseuds/get_in_angel
Summary: He didn't mean to take his stress out on Crowley, but Aziraphale felt overwhelmed from the events that unfolded after the apocalypse was averted.





	Pressing Down on You

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 1  
Annoying
> 
> This is my first Good Omens fic I've posted! I'm working on a much longer one, as well as following the August writing prompts. Also, of course I used a Queen lyric for a title, like any Good Omens fan would do. I hope you enjoy this, and if you felt like leaving a kudos or a comment, I'd be eternally grateful. Enjoy!

Aziraphale was bustling around the bookshop, too busy to even notice the door opening and a certain demon walking in. It hadn’t even been a week since they had avoided the apocalypse, yet Aziraphale’s stress levels had remained fairly high from the events that had unfolded. He was still on edge from his trip to hell as well, so during the past few days, he had locked the doors to the bookshop and occupied his time with finding multiple new ways to arrange the books.

Crowley, on the other hand, had become quite good at repressing his emotions over time, so dealing with his own stress consisted of sleep and stricter expectations for his plants. However, after five days of seclusion and not hearing from Aziraphale, Crowley decided he had had enough of dealing with those particular emotions, and made the rather quick drive over to the angel’s bookshop.

With a snap, he opened the locked doors and sauntered into the building. The desk where the angel usually sat to examine his books was empty.

“Angel?” called out Crowley, receiving no response. He didn’t allow the hint of panic that wanted to creep into his stomach at the feeling of being alone in the shop. Instead, he peeked around shelves and made his way into the back room.

A moment later, he found Aziraphale tucked behind a shelf in the very back corner, books stacked in piles all around him. He seemed too preoccupied with Plato’s _Symposium_ to even realize Crowley leaning against the shelf above him.

“Hey, Aziraphale,” Crowley said after clearing his throat. The angel finally up from the book for a moment.

“Ah, yes, Crowley…” he said, clearly distracted and looking back and forth between Crowley and the books surrounding where he sat on the floor. “Can I help you with anything?”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Uh, well, actually, I was wondering if you’d like to go get a bit of lunch?” What he truly meant by this, but would never say, was: _“Well, it’s been a few days since the near end of the world and I haven’t heard from you since, and I was hoping you were okay.”_

Aziraphale glanced up at him, giving him a small smile and nod. “Oh that would be lovely, dear.” His response seemed lackluster, Crowley noted. “Let me finish with these books first.”

Crowley shrugged and watched Aziraphale pull books off the shelf, stack them on the floor, sort them back onto the shelves, and repeat the whole process with slight variations. The angel’s brow was furrowed, clearly unhappy with each outcome.

After forty-five minutes, Crowley found himself sitting on the floor as well, picking up books and flipping through them until Aziraphale would clear his throat and ask for them back.

After two hours, Crowley was surprised to realize he was about a third of the way through _The Odyssey_ when Aziraphale called his name.

“My dear, I’m glad to see you enjoying yourself, but you’re a bit in the way.”

After five hours and twenty minutes, Crowley had finished _The Odyssey_ and was laying sideways across a chair around the corner from Aziraphale. He was beginning to get quite bored and wondered how much longer Aziraphale would be at this for.

After six hours, Crowley was standing over Aziraphale and his pile of books, which looked almost the same as when Crowley first arrived. It wasn’t that Crowley didn’t enjoy being in the bookshop with Aziraphale, but usually he was at least interacting with the angel. Instead, Aziraphale hadn’t moved from behind the bookshelf, sitting in his silent frustration. Crowley was beginning to suspect something was wrong.

“Angel,” Crowley said delicately. “Are you nearly finished?” He didn’t mean to be pushy, he really didn’t, he just felt perhaps Aziraphale would want a break, since he seemed to be progressing in frustration and not organization.

Aziraphale sighed. “Quite, yes. I just need a bit more time…” he trailed off, eyeing another stack of books.

“I can help you,” offered Crowley. “If you like.”

“No, I do believe I have it under control,” replied Aziraphale, not intending for his tone to sound irritated.

Crowley frowned sadly, trying to figure out what was wrong. “Aziraphale, are you sure you-”

“Crowley, please!” Aziraphale interrupted him, his voice a little too loud for the small corner of the bookshop. “I know you think you’re trying to be helpful, but you’re being quite irritating! Can’t you just let me finish this?”

Crowley stood there for a moment, opening his mouth to say something, but he found he was at a loss for words that would be helpful, so instead he said nothing, nodded gently, turned, and walked away.

Aziraphale’s face twitched with sadness before he huffed and went back to the books, trying to ignore the guilt he was feeling. He only managed to suppress it for a few minutes before setting down the books in his hands with more frustration. This time, however, his frustration was directed at himself. He didn’t mean to snap at Crowley, but everything seemed to be annoying him the last couple days. Aziraphale rubbed his forehead, feeling tears push at the edges of his eyes. He looked around and was about to get up to go find the demon, when he heard soft footsteps coming into the room.

Crowley was carrying a steaming mug, and Aziraphale caught the calming scent of chamomile. The demon sat down on the floor next to Aziraphale and handed him the mug with a sad smile. Aziraphale couldn’t meet Crowley’s eyes as he took the mug.

“Crowley, I-” the angel started, but was interrupted by Crowley waving his hand dismissively.

“Nah, don’t worry.”

Aziraphale frowned. “No, Crowley, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you were annoying me. I just…” he fidgeted with the mug. “I don’t know, ever since… ever since Hell, I’ve felt very one edge.” Tears welled in his eyes. I’m sorry for taking it out on you.”

Crowley put a hand on Aziraphale’s leg. “Angel, it’s okay. I’m not mad.” He looked down. “I was stressed about it all too. I’m sorry if I made it worse.” He didn’t know how to express that he just wanted to help.

Aziraphale gingerly wiped his eyes. “I’m glad you’re here.” He gratefully sipped the tea Crowley had made for him.

After a few minutes of sitting in calm silence, Crowley picked up a book. “Shall we finish these books?”

Nodding, Aziraphale also grabbed a book, finding it a bit easier to decide how to organize the shelves. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but Crowley’s kindness made him feel much better.

The two of them spent the next thirty minutes filling the bookshelf. Once they had finished, empty mug in hand, Aziraphale smiled at Crowley. “Thank you, my dear.”

Crowley smirked softly. “Dinner at the Ritz?”

“Why yes, I think that would be quite lovely.”

**Author's Note:**

> Crowley is really just soft for his angel, and the fact that he makes tea for him is proof. Also I'm not great at endings so I hope this ending works well enough.


End file.
